Drama!
by amorsolo
Summary: Head Boy Albus S. Potter tries to stage a play based on The Fountain of Fair Fortune and insists they aren't idiots to repeat old mistakes. His crew thinks they're just going to make their own mistakes. (Rose/Scorpius; T for language and some other things.)


Disclaimer: I own nothing you've seen in the books or in JKR's website. Thank you.

Language here could get pretty strong (?), so there's that warning for some. I apologize for that. This is a take on the whole 'they hate each other but not really' trope. Also, to be honest, I don't really know if I could update this story regularly, but oh well.

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1 - Albus' Great Idea

A year ago, the Department of Magical Culture and Arts had pitched a project to Minister Raymond Bones to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the victory of Harry Potter, the Order of the Phoenix, and Dumbledore's Army over Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the Second Wizarding War. The said project would stretch from May to the end of July, Harry Potter's birthday, and would include a music festival, art exhibits, countless discussions and public forums, a film festival, and an event hosted by Hogwarts.

Several people had expressed their disapproval of the proposal, or as much disapproval they could give without getting shit for it. Albus' dad himself had expressed his confusion as to why such a lavish celebration was needed, so did Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. Minister Bones had said that most of the events were unnecessary. Mr Malfoy had written in his Daily Prophet column that the project had "all the potential to be a gathering for elitists to further impose their discriminatory opinions on what is cultured and insult the alternative movements that actually had something to say". A lot of people had accused Mr Malfoy of still being bitter about the defeat of Tom Riddle, but Al's dad had said that some people still had the old image of the Malfoys in their heads and Draco had simply written what he really thought, and that he had a point.

Because of these, Al had not thought that the festival would be approved. But the project reached Minister's board and then got a 75% approval, and Minister Bones had no choice but to allow the festival to take place and only make minor alterations. And it had gone quite well, actually. (Mrs Malfoy had even participated with a very distinctive photography exhibit in the celebrations and the only art show his dad and Aunt Hermione had actually gone to.)

It had gone well enough, in fact, that the department had suggested that it become an annual thing a mere month after. The board had once again agreed. And so Albus S. Potter, as Head Boy, which he didn't think should have been the case had the fiasco of the last month of sixth year not happened, carried the responsibility of meeting with the Headmistress, along with the Head Girl to decide what they would do in May.

Last year, it had been a ball. Oh, that had been loads of fun. Blokes needing to ask out the girls, feeling depressed when the girl they like had already said yes to another. Then there were girls feeling anxious about whether or not the boy they like would ask them, and then some perfectly lovely girls do not get asked because the blokes either were too shy or thought entirely with their dicks. And the dancing! Yes, that ball had been a ton of fucking fun.

And this year, he had to plan their part with prissy Winona Macmillan who had everything she ever needed handed on a silver platter and whose family was one of those elitist arsewipes whose opinions Mr Malfoy had criticized. One would think that Harry Potter's family would be filthy rich after years of being Head of the Auror office but that wasn't the case because he still did not earn half as much as the businessmen did. And the Quidditch world was still quite sexist and the Harpies had only approached brilliant Quidditch analyst Ginny Potter to be their manager this season.

Yes, Albus Potter had a lot of issues with the world. But not as much as his cousin had with—

"—and with the success of last year's event, Professor McGonagall, I think we should just continue tradition and hold another ball," said Macmillian, and Al choked on air.

"Is there a problem, Mr Potter?" said a slightly puzzled Professor McGonagall. Macmillan was already looking funny at Al with an eyebrow raised and her chin thrust up.

"Shouldn't we try something new, Professor?" said Al, desperately wishing that another idea would come to his head apart from the duelling competition (that Rosie had said wasn't really an event for a cultural festival) and talent show (that Scorpius had said was so lame).

"Do you have any other ideas, then?" said the headmistress, looking sternly at Al down the bridge of her nose. "You have not said any word since you sat down so I assumed Miss Macmillan is the only one with the suggestion."

A repeat of last year was hardly a suggestion. "I… do have a few ideas, Professor."

"Well then, let's hear them."

No turning back now, genius. "A talent show?"

"A talent show?" Macmillan raised an eyebrow. "And who will be the participants, Albus? First and second years?"

"Possibly," Al tried to sound more confident, "and for the older students we could hold a duelling competition."

Macmillan's eyebrow only rose even higher, which was apparently possible, and the Headmistress still did not seem convinced, "I will… _consider_ your suggestions. I shall inform you of my final decision come the weekend. Until then you could still offer some other ideas," McGonagall looked at Al, "if you come up with ones you think are better. You may go. I still have other business to attend to." She walked away from her desk and to the staircase that led to her chambers.

Macmillan stood first and went out of the office. Al rose from his seat a few seconds later, and walked away from the headmistress' desk about ten times slower than his usual pace. Glancing at the portraits, he noticed the names Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape below two frames next to each other.

Severus Snape looked at him, sadly at first, and then sneered and looked away. Albus Dumbledore, on the other hand, smiled at him. "Are you Harry's second son? And in Slytherin?"

Al flushed slightly and managed to say, "Yes, sir."

"Head Boy? Just like your grandfather, then," said Dumbledore. He glanced to where Al came from, "Forgive me if I'm wrong but the reason Minerva summoned you and Miss Macmillan was for the celebrations, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will it be a ball again, then?"

"We still haven't decided on that yet, sir," said Al, scratching the back of his head. "Although I admit, I'm running out of ideas."

Snape spoke again, "Well, you better think of one or another ball with students frolicking like rabbits will take place." Al could not help but agree.

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Armando, didn't we have something of the sort during your time as headmaster?" he said to a portrait to his left.

"Oh, don't remind me of that one, Albus" said Armando Dippet, according to the nameplate below the frame. "It ended up in flames, as did the Great Hall."

"I think there had been an accident with an Ashwinder and a dispute between some actresses," said Dumbledore.

"Adolescents," Snape rolled his eyes.

Al got his head around the details and vaguely recalled something from the annotations on the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard back in their house. "Is this The Fountain of Fair Fortune, sir?"

"I think so, it is, son," said Dippet. "Such a good story as well, and the efforts of the other students had been brought to waste."

Inside Al's head, bells were ringing and angels were singing praises. In a matter of seconds he was able to picture their magnificent stage play and himself bowing in front of a crowd for a job well done. And then faces formed on the two people beside him and, holy shit, this was the best idea Al ever had.

"Thank you, Professor Dippet!" Al was ready to kiss Dippet's portrait but tried to contain himself.

"What did I do, boy?"

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape!" said Al, beaming widely at his namesakes, and tried to calm himself as he sat back down on the chair in front of the Headmistress' desk.

"Mr Potter, don't you have some other things to do?" said McGonagall as she returned a few minutes later to her desk.

"Professor, I think we should do a stage play of The Fountain of Fair Fortune."

McGonagall pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, "I didn't expect you to come up with another idea so quickly. Why do you think so?"

Al took a deep breath and tried to come up with something good. "The last time it had been attempted, a fiasco had come about and the event had become a mess. Now, we could show that the students of Hogwarts are disciplined enough to stage a good play without history repeating. Also, The Fountain of Fair Fortune is a good example of Muggle-Wizard relations that are now much more accepted because of Dad's victory."

Upon repeating the words he had said in his head, Al congratulated himself for coming up with a very sound and thought out argument and allowed himself a grin.

And it really must be good considering that the headmistress also had a small smile forming on her face, "This is a greatly better idea than your previous suggestions, Mr Potter. I shall consider your suggestion and I will send for you and Miss Macmillan when I reach a decision."

Al excused himself and walked back to the portaits, thanked Dippet, Dumbledore and Snape for a second time, and descended the stairs leading out of the headmistress' office.

/

The Potions classrooms had to be the staff's method of revenge against the students for all the shite they pulled in school. They were dim and cold and abused the senses nearly all the time. And it didn't help that the N.E.W.T.-level classroom was about as spacious as a fucking broom closet. The only thing that kept Albus attending his Potions classes was that he actually _liked_ Potions. Whether it liked him back was still a matter of debate.

They had been making an anticoagulant a few minutes ago and were just labelling their vials when Scorpius asked him about the meeting with McGonagall. "I pitched to her the greatest idea she's ever heard."

"Greatest idea from you, maybe," Scorpius sneered. "It's not really that hard to achieve."

Al rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I suggested a school play where we interpret The Fountain of Fair Fortune."

"Hm," Scorpius stood up and made to submit his vial, "that's better than a ball, I'd say."

"You just don't want to admit that it's a great idea," said Al, following Scorpius to the professor's table.

"Yes, it's a great idea," said Scorpius, deadpanned, "if you don't consider what happened the first time it was attempted and the fact that the festival occurs around the same time as our N.E.W.T.s."

They placed their vials on the table, where Scorpius received an enthusiastic pat on the back from the professor for a good potion while Al got a half-hearted 'good job'. Well, at least he was able to make a decent brew unlike some others.

"It's not really too much of a conflict," said Al once they got back to their seats. "I'll just have to assign a number of parts and jobs to a bunch of sixth years. But I'll be director, or course."

"Oh, really? What are your qualifications?"

"I don't need qualifications; I came up with the idea," said Al. Scorpius just scoffed. "Do you have any other suggestions for the director position, then?"

"Winona Macmillan?" Scorpius smirked, and Al was sure that he was doing it on purpose. "What about the script?"

"Rosie," said Al, to which Scorpius grimaced. "Oh, and you're going to be a big part of the play, too."

Scorpius turned his head quickly, "_What?_"

"Scorpius, my friend," Al supposed he looked too pleased at that moment but he did not really care, "you're forgetting that I am also a Slytherin. I have thought this over for a long time—"

"By a long time, you mean overnight."

Al huffed, "Whatever. So, I have thought this over, and I realized we're nearing the end of the school year and I still haven't made you and Rosie pay for fighting like really violent kids over chocolate frogs that cost the both of you the Heads position, making me stuck with a shit ton of responsibilities for my final year in Hogwarts. I decided that I will _finally_ have my retribution."

Scorpius looked completely irritated and conflicted at the same time. "Do you realize how disastrous your play will turn out if you pull through with that? Your cousin will in no universe agree to work on something that involves me. And in the remote case she actually does, the results will be totally fucked up."

That reaction was exactly what Al expected, so he planned ahead. "Too bad because if this play gets approved –which I am sure it will –I only have to tell the Headmistress that you two refuse to work together for the benefit of the school or are once again behaving inappropriately for supposedly mature students, and with last year's happenings, I'm sure McGonagall would not go easy on you."

Scorpius scowled at Al so darkly it was almost funny, "Fuck you, Albus."

"You don't mean that, Scorpius," Al laughed and knew that he won. "I know that deep inside yourself, you're actually _very_ happy about this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to tell my cousin something."

Rose was seated next to Lorcan Scamander a few tables in front of Al and Scorpius', with Rose giving Lorcan a last minute reminder on bottling the potion. When Al reached their table, Lorcan had just finished with the vial.

"Hullo, Albus," said Lorcan, "Rosie's just thinking about Scorpius Malfoy."

Rose flushed and then hit Lorcan's shoulder just as he was about to submit his potion, "Lorcan, what are you saying?"

"You were staring at him earlier," Lorcan walked to the professor's desk before Rose could hit him again and then winked. "Saw it with my own two eyes, love."

Al laughed and took the seat Lorcan had vacated, "He looks really chipper today."

His cousin was still red-faced and was not looking at Al. "Robbie Fitzgerald asked him out yesterday."

"Really?" A good number of people in their year had been waiting for Fitzgerald to come out of the closet since fifth year, but they didn't really want to pressure the boy in anything so they did not say anything, "That's nice."

"It is," Rose said absently. "But it would have been better if Lorcan talked about _that_ and not about… certain other things."

"Are you here to talk about my love life, Albus?" said Lorcan as he returned, "You might have heard about this thing with Robbie, but I think Rosie's is still far more interesting." Lorcan smirked at Rose, who just rolled her eyes.

"Not exactly," Al grinned. "I'm here to tell Rosie about my great plan for the Victory Cultural Festival Whatsit."

"Alright, that is interesting," said Lorcan. "I mean, I don't really mind another ball, but last year could have been better."

So far, nearly everyone Al had talked to did not like last year's event. He liked to think things were boding well for him. "Iknow, that's why this year, we're going to stage our interpretation of The Fountain of Fair Fortune."

Rose looked surprised. Did nobody really trust him to come up with a good idea? "Wow," said Rose. "That is actually a good idea, although didn't the last time that was attempted, some crazy shite happened?"

"But we're not like them, Rosie dear," Al leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "We aren't idiots to make the same mistakes as they did, and I already planned my rough draft last night."

"I'm listening," said Rose, crossing her arms in front of her.

"As soon as this gets approved, I'm naming yours truly the director," said Al. "And you're writing."

Rose raised an eyebrow, "Do I get an option of refusing?"

"Of course, not," Al took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself from Rose's reaction to his next words. "Scorpius is going to be in the play, too."

On cue, Lorcan laughed loudly and got reprimanded, and Rose gaped at Al before hitting him upside the back of his head. "What… how is this part of a _great_ plan, Albus? Great plans usually render great results," she said.

"Oh, it will, Rosie, I promise you that," said Al, "but the road to greatness is a treacherous one."

"I think you're just making things worse than they could be, Albus," said Rose, who was predictably being more difficult than Scorpius. "So instead of avoiding the mistakes by the last people who tried, you're making your own."

Al chuckled humourlessly. "I'll tell you what I told Scorpius. This is retribution for you two royally pissing off McGonagall last year, which led to my taking over Scorpius' prefect job and then getting all these responsibilities for my last year in Hogwarts." When Rose was about to protest, Al quickly added, "And I think McGonagall would actually like my plan, yes, I'm serious."

"Nice plan," said Lorcan. "Can I be a part of the play, too? I want to see what happens."

"Of course." Excellent. With Lorcan on his side, things could become a bit easier.

Rose sat glaring at Al and Lorcan for a few seconds until she gave up and sighed, "I have some conditions."

This would be good. "Name them; I'll see if I could agree."

"I will not be required to come early at practices."

"Depends," said Al. "If you have an urgent task, you have to be early."

"I'm bloody scriptwriter; I don't have urgent tasks," said Rose, but Al only shrugged. "_Ugh_, fine. Second, I will not be forced to become an emergency errand person, stand-in, prop maker, or whatever it is you suddenly need. And if I decide to bring schoolwork into practice hours, I will not be reprimanded."

Al agreed to both conditions and was about to shake hands with Rose when she paused halfway. "What?"

"I will be allowed to take naps during practice. God knows I'd need it if I'm there. And breaks."

Given that he already agreed to her other terms, Al did not see the need for Rose to still sleep during practice. Still, he said, "Fine, but I have the right to wake you up when I need your input."

Rose finally shook his hand.

He knew he should not count his eggs before his chicks become chickens, or something like that, and there still was the possibility that Winona Macmillan could come up with another idea, but Al was pretty certain he had it in the bag.

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Thank you for reading, reader. I also like feedback :D


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